


Loss of More than Power

by junko



Category: Bleach
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexuality, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 04:43:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4334318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been three weeks since Ichigo woke up from the coma he fell into after Aizen's defeat.  His powers are gone, and so are his friends.  He knows something has to change, but he never would have predicted what would happen when Renji showed up wearing the stupidest cowboy hat in the history of ever...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loss of More than Power

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure what possessed me to write this fic, except that I have always hated what the timeskip would have really been like for Ichigo. A year and a half of people ignoring him? Leaving him out? It breaks my heart to think of every damn time. So, I fixed it. 
> 
> Now he has someone to keep him company.

In the first two weeks after waking up from the coma, Ichigo thought maybe he’d be fine. Seeing Rukia fade right before his eyes had felt like… well, like the opposite of when they’d first met, like instead a hot, piercing stab in the chest, everything just went out, slipping away, leaving him in a kind of emptying rush. 

That had sucked.

But, the first few weeks after had also been a gift. No one had tried to kill him. No part of his body was broken, bleeding, or bruised. Ichigo could sleep in, knowing that not a single soul was lying in wait ready to pounce. No one he cared about was in danger, no one he loved was hurting, there was nothing he had to be alert against, and nothing he needed to be ready to protect anyone from. He could lay down his sword, unclench his fists, and breathe a little.

Even Dummo Dad stopped trying to tackle him every fucking minute.

Oddly, that was the thing that started to grate on Ichigo first. 

It was weird how much Ichigo missed it. He’d walk in the door after school and listen and wait. Yuzu would be in the kitchen, fussing over something delicious-smelling, plates and utensils clinking. Dad would be there, too, washing up or setting the table, humming some ridiculously retro song to himself, out-of-tune, and way too loudly. Karin might look up from the soccer game she was watching on the TV and give him a little nod. All perfectly… normal, Ichigo guessed. Yet he’d stand there like a moron, clutching his book bag, waiting for--

Nothing.

No flying kick. No punches to duck.

“I’m home,” Ichigo muttered, a little pissed off that Dinkwad Dad hadn’t tried to bash his head in. How fucked up was that?

Yuzu, at least, poked her head out from the kitchen door to smile and wave and give him a happy ETA on dinner. “Twenty minutes, Ichi-nii! We’re having curry, your favorite!”

He nodded and headed up the stairs to his room. It irritated Ichigo that his back still itched, like he still expected some fucking sneak attack that wasn’t going to come. Dickhead Dad, Mr. Surprise Captain Shinigami, who never, ever pulled his punches, ever, just kept on singing “Copa Cabana” at top volume. 

It hurt.

It fucking hurt a lot. 

Ichigo threw his book bag on his bed and glared at the empty linen closet from the doorway. He had the weirdest desire to say ‘heya, Rukia,’ even though he knew she wasn’t there. Though, maybe she was. After all, how would he know? He couldn’t even see the smallest ghost anymore. She could be standing right in front of him right now, sticking her tongue out, wagging her fingers….

Okay, now he was officially pathetic. Smiling to himself at dumb-ass imaginary friends.

Ichigo plopped, face down, onto his bed.

“Oi, watch yourself!” Kon complained, scootching a foot out from where Ichigo’s shoulder had landed on it.

Why, dear gods, had the annoying, stuffed lion not disappeared with his superpowers and the rest of his friends? “You could leave,” Ichigo said into his blankets. “I can’t use that soul pill of yours anymore.” Or, maybe the pill actually was Kon? Trying to imagine how that worked made Ichigo’s head hurt, so he just shrugged. “Why don’t you go introduce yourself to my sister, Karin? I’m pretty sure Hat-and-Clogs gave her my old job.”

There was soft pounding on Ichigo’s head as tiny, plushie fists pummeled him. “You think I didn’t?! She called me a pervert and threatened to rip my stuffing out if I came within a half-yard of her!”

Oh, right. Of course they’d already talked about it. Ichigo wasn’t in the loop any more. Nobody talked to him about anything. Not even shit that involved his very own sister, his best friends, and his former job.

Without otherwise moving, Ichigo grabbed Kon by the head and tossed him against the wall. Something inside Kon squeaked as he bounced off the wall and across the floor. Turning to stare at the window, Ichigo sighed. “You are a pervert. On second thought, stay the hell away from my sisters.”

Ichigo heard Kon pull himself to his feet and, grumbling, lock himself in Rukia’s closet--no, it was just the linen closet. No one lived there, anymore. Well, except maybe Kon now, which was somehow worse.

Downstairs Ichigo heard the familiar sound of the soul phone going off. 

He leaped to his feet. Flinging his the door to his room open, he took the stairs at a bound, only to have the font door nearly slam into his face as Karin busted out into the street at full speed. Ichigo stood there, his knuckles white on the knob, watching Karin disappearing down the block. A flash of orange hair under streetlamps told Ichigo that Orihime had joined her. Still, his feet stepped forward. He didn’t know how to do this--how to not run toward trouble. He was on the sidewalk, starting to follow them anyway, when Dad’s meaty hand closed on his shoulder, stopping him.

“Curry’s ready,” Dad said, the message clear: _you’d only be in their way, son._

“Right,” Ichigo said, frowning into the darkness, willing himself to see something in the evening’s shadows, anything.

Fuck.

Fuck-ity-fuck with fuck sauce.

How was he supposed to live like this… forever?

Dad’s grip on Ichigo’s shoulder tightened, like maybe he was gearing up to physically drag Ichigo back into the house. Ichigo was thinking: _Just try it, Old Man, you’ll see how much fight I’ve still got left_ , when a familiar voice called out.

“Oi, Ichigo!”

It was… “Renji?”

It had to be that doofus. No one else had hair that color, and, well, facial tattoos. To Renji’s credit, he’d mostly hidden his forehead ink underneath one of those ten gallon American cowboy hats. Of course, he had mirrored sunglasses on, as well, because apparently he had some kind of sunglasses fetish. The crazy, blood-red hair of his was braided and hung down the back of a wide-lapelled shirt that had probably last been in fashion decades before Ichigo was even born. He wore form fitting jeans and boots that matched the hat. A giant silver belt buckle in the shape of a steer’s head was positioned like a shining beacon at his crotch. 

Seeing Renji, Dummo Dad disappeared quickly into the house, as if, after the defeat of Aizen, it was still somehow some kind of big-ass secret that he used to be a shinigami… or maybe still was one. Again with the head hurting things that made Ichigo mentally change the subject as quickly as possible. “What the hell are you doing here, Renji?”

“Taking you out for a beer!” Renji announced, flinging an arm around Ichigo. “Or, coffee, I guess, since you’re underage.”

This close it was hard not to notice how tall Renji was. Ichigo had had a bit of a growth spurt while he was in the coma, but Renji still had three or four inches on him, easy. It was demoralizing how snuggly he fit into the big moron’s armpit. Though it didn’t smell nearly as badly as Ichigo expected. Renji--or his gigai--smelled pleasantly of some kind of spicy aftershave and… steel. Yeah, steel. Like the scent of a blade being forged, the singe of molten metal. Raw. Powerful.

Shit, that was weirdly sexy.

Ichigo glanced back towards his house half-expecting Yuzu to be standing in the open doorway, looking anxious about her dinner growing cold, a wooden spoon in her hand. The door, however, was firmly closed shut. The front lights had even been turned off, giving the strong impression that Kurosaki Clinic was closed for the night. Dummo Dad must have decided that even if curry was ready and on the table, random shinigami were most definitely not invited to dinner.

That decided it for Ichigo. He was sick of hanging around this stupid place anyway. “Throw in dinner, and I’m in.”

Renji grinned toothily and hugged Ichigo tighter. “Deal.”

#

In a minute, they were seated on two rickety stools under an awning at a ramen stand. Renji, it turned out, was a cheap date. As he slurped his noodles, Ichigo almost considered making some kind of joke about why Rukia preferred Byakuya, but then Ichigo decided he did not want to bring up Rukia at all, or possibly ever.

Anyway, the joke would have been dumb and a little unfair, since, so far, Renji was the only shinigami to make any kind of effort to hang out.

“How come you ain’t fighting the Hollow?” Renji asked with a noodle hanging out of the side of his mouth. Noisily, he sucked it in. Ichigo found himself mesmerized by the juices dripping down from Renji’s lips, over sharp, predatory chin, along the long line of throat, and disappearing at the line of visible chest tattoos… 

Ichigo realized Renji was staring at him, clearly expecting an answer to something or other that Ichigo either hadn’t heard or had… forgotten.

“Um, what?”

“I asked you how come you ain’t out busting up the Hollow.”

“What? Why do you think, you giant idiot?” Ichigo snarled. “What am I going to do? I’m not even interesting bait any more. I’m not tasty.”

“Tasty? Huh,” Renji gave Ichigo a funny look then, with a sloppy kind of grin and twinkling eyes, like maybe he thought Ichigo was plenty tasty.

Ichigo smacked him for that, the flat of his palm hitting hard enough to knock that stupid hat off Renji’s head.

Renji had to make an awkward grab for the hat, but managed to get it before the wind took it down the sidewalk. Sitting himself back down, Renji gently set the hat in the empty space beside him and said, “Watch it. I can’t scuff this thing up; it’s Tessai’s. He’d fucking kill me if I lost it.”

The image of Tessai in a cowboy hat and that apron thing he always wore made Ichigo’s brain twinge again. 

“I have a hard time imagining you’d be useless in any fight,” Renji said, picking up his bowl again. He shoveled food in with this chopsticks, then added, “I kind of figure you’d always be good for it. Rukia said Sado fought just fine blind as a bat. I figure you could, too.”

Something broke deep inside Ichigo and he had to gulp a breath before he could say. “Fuck me, Renji. Why did you come here? I don’t need you to torture me. I can do that just fine myself.”

Renji set his bowl down and looked Ichigo in the eye. He’d tucked the sunglasses in his pocket, and so Ichigo found himself pinned under that… molten? gaze. What the hell color were Renji’s eyes? Red? Regardless, Ichigo was surprised to notice there was no pity in Renji’s expression, it was simply steady and focused. “I came here because I missed your sparkling personality, you dipshit.” Going back to his noodles, Renji took a big gulp. “Plus, I can’t get nobody to play futsal with me, and I figured you and your buddies might be up for it.”

Ichigo snorted out a laugh. “Fustal is lame, dude. All my friends play soccer.”

“Fuck your friends, man.”

_Yeah_ , Ichigo thought. _Fuck ‘em_. “You want to go to a movie or something?”

“You asking me out?” Renji teased.

“If I am, I’ll tell you one thing--I’m not going to be as cheap as your sorry ass, Abarai. I’d take you somewhere half-decent.”

“Oi, I happen to really like ramen.”

“Is that why we walked two extra blocks to find the cheapest place?” The chef glanced up from his pots, so Ichigo added a hasty, “No offense,” and the guy shrugged and went back to his work. 

Renji got up and dug around in his jeans pockets for yen. After dropping a thousand note down on the counter, he put the hat back on his head. Adjusting it, he glared down at Ichigo and said, “I’m going to be honest with you, Ichigo Kurosaki. I’ve never been to a movie in my life. I don’t know what the hell that even is.”

Ichigo laughed, rubbing his hands together. “This is going to be fun.”

# 

Even though Ichigo had tried to prepare Renji for the idea of moving pictures, it was less than twenty minutes into the thing before the manager was asking them to leave. It didn’t help matters that every time Renji shouted or jumped, Ichigo cracked up. He laughed so hard at Renji’s antics, he thought he was going to piss his pants.

With a half-assed apology to the manager, Ichigo dragged a still shouting Renji out of the darkened theater. Everyone’s dark glare only made Ichigo laugh harder. By the time they were out in the lobby, Ichigo was wiping tears from his eyes. Renji blustered, “That was fucking terrifying. And those people were morons. Who splits up the hunting party when the monster is clearly lurking right around the corner?”

Ichigo chuckled, reaching up to wiped the spilled popcorn off Renji’s chest. “Next time, I’ll take you to a romantic comedy, big guy.” 

The paisley shirt Renji wore was silk and as Ichigo’s fingers slipped over the contours of his chest, he swore he could feel every ripple of muscle and sinew…. and… uh, the popcorn kernels had been gone some time ago. Ichigo should really stop petting Renji’s pecs.

Any minute now.

“Heh,” was the only warning Ichigo had before Renji caught him up in a kiss.

WTF, a kiss!??!

Ichigo had never been kissed before, not by a boy… or a girl. Unless his mom counted and that was years and years ago, and her kisses were nothing like this. For one, Ichigo’s mouth automatically and unconsciously opened to Renji’s, as if inviting the tender, tentative tongue that began to explore mouth, teeth and lips. Renji’s hands cupped Ichigo’s head, urging him to press closer, even though Ichigo felt like a dork, with his palms pressed into Renji’s chest, like some fainting… uh….

What was he? What was he doing?

Ichigo pushed away. “Um…. Wait, I’m not sure… That is, uh…. ” Ichigo looked helplessly around the theater’s lobby, blushing when he caught sight of the concession stand girl giggling at him.

Renji’s gaze tracked Ichigo’s and he gave Ichigo a nod.“Right,” Renji said, grabbing Ichigo by the hand. “We should do this somewhere more private.”

_Had_ Ichigo suggested that? Did he want ‘more private’... with Renji? Ichigo had always thought maybe if there was going to be a ‘more private,’ it was going to be with Rukia. But, then again, there had been plenty of opportunities for ‘more private’ and no part of him had been driven to try anything on with her. Not even once.

Was that because he’d been waiting for this kind of ‘more private’?

Whelp, in a way it was kind of too late for worrying about. He’d already kissed the guy and was following Renji through the crowded evening streets in the direction of the secluded canals. As they ran together, under the strobing flash of neon and clack of overhead trains, Ichigo felt his heart lightening, his breath coming easier. 

Shit yeah. Okay, no matter what happened next, this was clearly something he wanted. If nothing else, he loved that Renji didn’t slow his pace. He expected Ichigo to keep up. No pussy footing around, as if walking around the eggshells of a broken soul. Renji didn’t even look back, he just held his hand, and trusted Ichigo would be there, keeping up.

Then, suddenly, Renji ducked them through a tangle of bushes and down the slope toward the canal. Darkness enveloped them as they left behind the lighted paths. 

Renji stopped, so Ichigo did, too. They’d stopped under the canopy of an old, broad maple. The smells of fish and cut grass replaced those of diesel and warm asphalt. They stood there, silently holding hands, and stared out at the canal, whitecaps reflecting moonlight and city. The sounds of traffic were muffled this close to the water. Tree frogs peeped.

Ichigo supposed he should feel weird standing around holding on to some bruiser’s calloused hand, but he didn’t. Ichigo hadn’t really held anyone’s hand like this since the day his Mom died, and he’d forgotten how comforting it was just knowing someone else was there.

Renji seemed focused on the city lights, watching the cars crossing the bridge and the pattern of bright squares of lit office windows downtown. Had Renji always been into him or was this whole thing as spontaneous for Renji as it was for Ichigo?

As if reading Ichigo’s thoughts, Renji said, “I didn’t come here to seduce you, you know.”

“No?” Should he feel disappointed? Because he kind of did. 

“Nah, I wouldn’t have thought I had a chance.”

Oh. Oh, cool. To be fair, Ichigo hadn’t known Renji would have had a chance before tonight either. When had Ichigo had time to notice stuff like how warm Renji’s hand was in his, how the moonlight cut strong, sharp highlights on sharp cheekbones, how… stupid he looked in that hat.

“I can’t believe I kissed a guy in such a dorky-ass cowboy hat,” Ichigo sighed.

Renji glanced over at him. “Yeah, but you did. Wanna do it again?”

Ichigo quirked a smile. Kind of? Maybe? Yes...? “Take the fucking hat off first.”

Renji’s smile was wolfish, and Ichigo would have sworn one of the tips of canines glinted in the moonlight like fangs. Removing the cowboy hat, Renji deliberately dropped it on the ground. A few hairs had escaped his braid and softened the sharp widow’s peak of Renji’s hairline. Ichigo’s eyes were drawn to the forehead tattoos, so much like a tiger… wow, had those always been so cool-looking?

Stepping around to stand in front of Ichigo, Renji growled, “You asking me to strip?”

Ichigo’s mouth hung open, because what the fuck did you say to that? Renji took advantage of his gaping and kissed him again. 

This kiss was less tentative, more certain, like Renji knew Ichigo was into it. Which he… was? He still didn’t really know, but Renji’s hands found their way to his face again, cupping his neck and jaw in a way that just felt… good. 

Their bodies were close enough that Ichigo’s hands could slide up Renji’s narrow waist to broad back. The silk made it easy to let his hands roam where they wanted, fingers gripping muscle and sliding along rib cage. He’d never thought about feeling up a dude before and it surprised Ichigo how he lingered in certain places and the mounting desire he felt to pull that shirt up out of Renji’s jeans and get under it.

He realized he was going for it when Renji’s deep-throated chuckle reverberated against his own mouth. Ichigo kissed back harder in a kind of ‘shut up’ way, and got his hands on skin. Oh, yeah, much nicer--taut and smooth. Hot, too. Under Ichigo’s hands, Renji’s skin seemed to flush, and he’d started making the most amazing noises.

Ichigo started to sweat. And get hard. And maybe pant into Renji’s mouth, but he didn’t want to think too much about how that must look. Especially since his fingers seemed to have a mind of their own and they were working loose the buttons of Renji’s shirt.

It was weird to think that maybe his body just knew what to do. 

Or was it? After all, when Rukia had given him her powers that first fateful night, he’d never held a sword before in his life, except once in an introductory kendo class in gym in middle school. Yet, his body had known what to do. No real learning curve. No hesitation. Just unthinking and automatic.

Just like now.

One hand still cupping Ichigo’s jaw line, Renji used the other one to help Ichigo get the shirt off. 

Ichigo’s eyes had been closed because he’d heard somewhere that was part of kissing etiquette, but he had to peek to see if he could see a bit of half-naked-Renji... and he found himself looking back at Renji’s open eye. 

In shock, he broke their kiss, His head snapped back so fast he almost banged it into the tree trunk. He blushed. Something about knowing Renji had been looking at him felt sexy, in a kind of possessive, predatory way. “You’re supposed to keep your eyes closed!” Ichigo demanded.

“Says who?” Renji smiled wickedly. 

That’s when Ichigo’s gaze finally strayed away from Renji’s face to check out his naked upper body. “Whoa,” he said unconsciously, his hands coming up to trace the lines. “Look at all this ink.” 

Ichigo particularly liked Renji’s shoulder and bicep stripes. Plus, admiring them gave him an excuse to run his hands along the rock hard muscles there. Ichigo was beginning to realize he had a kind of thing for strong arms. He’d always secretly admired Chad’s, too. 

“And check it out,” Renji said, pointing to something on his chest. Ichigo squinted in the moonlight trying to see where he was indicating.

“What?” Ichigo hated to admit it, but he had to say, “I don’t see anything.”

“That’s right.” Renji said proudly. “There’s nothing there. No scar. That Getsuga Tensho of yours didn’t even leave a scratch.”

“Oh.” Was that awkward? The whole fact that Ichigo had tried to kill Renji at least twice? Renji didn’t seem weirded out, at any rate. Instead, he seemed pleased.

“You know,” Renji smiled at Ichigo. He touched Ichigo’s nose playfully. “Zabimaru is still mad at me for not wanting to fight you again after that. But, you…” Renji’s fingers found their way into the short hairs at the back of Ichigo’s neck.. “I’ve never met anybody like you before. I mean, yeah, you had all sorts of crazy power, but that wasn’t what made you different. You never gave any fucks. Everybody I’ve ever known, even the Kenpachi, is afraid of something, they let something limit them. You made me realize I was holding back for stupid reasons. Not holding back my strength, but… my heart.”

Was that true? Did he have some magic in him that had nothing at all do with with his superpowers?

Even if it was some kind of lie to get him naked, gods damn it, Ichigo had needed to hear that. It was nice to imagine he’d done some good in some way that went beyond the power of his zanpakutō. So, this time, Ichigo stepped into the kiss. He grabbed a hold of Renji’s face and drew him down. Renji made a very happy noise at that, and his hands, rough from countless battles, slipped up under Ichigo’s tee-shirt. 

Ichigo tried to focus on kissing Renji the way Renji’d kissed him, but the sensation of fingertips and callouses made him squirm and shiver. He almost bit Renji’s lip when a thumb flicked across his nipple. When Renji did it again it was almost like an electric shock that went straight to his dick. Ichigo’d had no idea that his own nipples were so sensitive. All of Ichigo’s squeaks and jolts seemed to amuse Renji greatly.

It was probably so fucking obvious he was a virgin.

Ichigo was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be one for much longer, though. Renji’s hands worked to undo Ichigo’s fly. Once he’d done it, his lips left Ichigo’s mouth and started moving downward. A gentle push had Ichigo’s back up against the tree. 

When Renji worked the jeans down over his hips, Ichigo clenched his teeth around a gasp. In fact, he would have grabbed his pants back up again reflexively, except Renji chose that moment to put his lips on Ichigo’s nipple and do a bite-y, suck-y thing… and then Ichigo suddenly forgot he was being stripped naked in a public park. In fact, his only thoughts were: “Ah!” and “Fuck!”

Then, somehow, Renji was kneeling in front of him, doing things with this tongue and mouth that had Ichigo clutching at anything that would help keep his knees from buckling. He might have pulled Renji’s hair, he wasn’t sure, but, definitely, his fingers dug into the rough bark of the maple tree. 

On the path below them, someone went jogging past. Cripes, was that Tatsuki? Ichigo’s only comfort was that if she saw them, she’d assume it was Kon--because Ichigo did not even want to imagine all the things Kon must have been doing with his body all these months.. 

Ichigo had to clamp a hand over his face and bite the inside of his cheek to stay silent, since Renji chose that moment to grab hard onto his hips and take him deep inside his mouth. 

Renji must have sensed something because he looked up. Their eyes met. Seeing Renji like that, shirtless, stray hairs falling in front of his eyes, his mouth wide around Ichigo’s own….

Yeah, it was too much--far too pornographic--for Ichigo’s deeply prudish soul. He came in a hot, sputtering rush. His knees gave out. Sliding down the trunk of the tree, his naked ass hit the cold, damp grass. Renji looked surprised to suddenly be face to face, but he just leaned over Ichigo’s upright knees, still trapped in his half-off jeans, and kissed him. Ichigo thought it would be gross to taste his own spunk, but Renji’s kiss was so tender and loving that he didn’t think about that at all. Instead, he threw his arms around Renji’s shoulders. Miscalculating his enthusiasm and forgetting about his tangled up legs, Ichigo managed to knock them both over. The two of them flopped down onto the ground. 

Renji rolled onto his back. And, after hitching up his undies and pants, Ichigo spooned up next to him. Again all of their own accord, Ichigo’s fingers found their way to Renji’s chest. Okay, Ichigo thought to himself as he caressed the solid strength there: arms and pecs. Apparently, they were both turn-ons. Who knew?

Looking down the length of Renji’s body, Ichigo couldn’t help but notice Renji’s erection past that huge silver belt buckle. Gods, that thing needed to go the way of the dumbass hat and the shirt. Ichigo thought he should probably offer to do something about all that, but what? Apparently, not a lot of thinking was required, because Ichigo’s hands were already there, stroking him through his jeans. 

Yeah, maybe instinct was the way to go here, Ichigo decided. Closing his eyes, he leaned down and kissed Renji, letting his hands figure out on their own the undoing of buttons and fly and what the hell came after. It wasn’t that much different from touching himself, anyway, even though Ichigo had a ridiculously low amount of experience with even that. 

Once again, Renji didn’t seem to mind. He lazily lifted an arm to throw around Ichigo’s shoulders, holding him close while they continued to kiss. The other hand went down to help set the pace and gently coach. Ichigo decided not to worry overmuch about whether he was getting everything exactly right, and instead let himself enjoy the way Renji’s breath hitched, how his hips lifted and thrust, and those insanely hot noises he made deep in his throat. 

In fact, Ichigo made a game of it to see if he could make Renji actually growl and whine.

Heh, ‘howl’ as a release.

Yeah, that turned out to be accurate.

After, Ichigo rolled onto his back and stared up at the few stars visible through the gaps of the leafy maple branches. The night air kissed the sweat from his skin. Or, maybe that was Renji nuzzling him again. “Oi, knock it off,” Ichigo hissed, giving Renji a half-hearted shove. “We can’t go again. Not here, anyway. The cops are going to arrest us for indecent exposure at the very least.” 

Renji flopped back onto his back. “That’s a thing?”

“Yeah, public nakedness is illegal,” Ichigo said. “It’s a human thing.”

Renji reached down and pulled his jeans back up. The zipper sounded loud in the still night air. “And I thought movies were weird.”

Ichigo nodded, not sure how to bring up the thing he wanted to ask. Renji had said he hadn’t come here to seduce him, but now that he had, now what? 

A mosquito buzzed near Ichigo’s ear. He went to slap at it, only to find Renji grabbing hold of his hand again. 

“Hey.” Renji said, turning his head to look at Ichigo. “So where could I take you that isn’t a cheap date?”

“Huh?”

“I’m saying: if I asked you out again, where would you want to go?”

Ichigo had no idea what two guys did together. It’d be another couple of years yet until he could legally go clubbing at a bar. His mouth started to open to explain all this, when it hit him: “Oh, so, this isn’t just a one time thing?”

Renji propped himself up on his elbow to look down at Ichigo. His expression looked a little stricken, as if Ichigo’s suggestion had hurt him a little. “Uh, no. I mean, unless that’s what you want.”

Ichigo reached up and tugged Renji’s braid. “Why the fuck would I want that?”

Renji smiled. “I dunno. Maybe you’re a player.”

“Me? A player? Do I look like a player?”

“A little,” Renji said seriously, leaning down to place a quick kiss on Ichigo’s nose. “You know, I did kind of figure you were stringing two girls along.”

Ichigo rolled his eyes. The whole school thought that, those that remembered Rukia, anyway. “Whatever.” Ichigo pushed Renji off him to sit up. He started to zip up his own jeans. “You’re the one who has to go back to the Soul Society. You don’t belong here.”

Renji shrugged. He sat up, too, watching Ichigo anxiously. “Maybe not, but I can visit, can’t I?”

Ichigo had to scootch around to pull his pants up properly enough to get them buttoned. He could feel the old irritation settling around his shoulders. How long would he really be able to hold Renji’s attention? He wasn’t anything special, not any more.

“Hey, I‘m asking you,” Renji said, his hand closing around Ichigo’s upper arm. “You want to see me again or not?”

“It’s probably easier if you stay away.”

“Oh, no, it’s definitely not easier for me to stay away,” Renji snarled, dropping Ichigo’s arm. “Do you know how hard it was for me to wait this long?”

Despite himself, Ichigo found himself searching Renji’s expression. That steady gaze was unnervingly intense. Renji meant it. He meant all of it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Renji continued, “And, it’s true. I got to be in the Soul Society sometimes and it’s always going to be hard for me to get away because I have a stupid, hardass captain but fuck if I’m going to let him stand between me and what I love ever again.”

Had Ichigo really heard that right? “Uh… love?”

Renji blushed, and dipped his head bashfully. “Okay, that was too soon.” Clearing his throat, he glanced up. “You get my point, though, right?”

“Maybe...?” Ichigo hugged his knees, staring out at the canal. What could it hurt? Ichigo had already been through so much physical pain, what would it really matter if Renji just came and went? Could it be worse than dying?

Ichigo thought maybe it could.

But maybe it was worth finding out.

Ichigo thought about that for awhile and then said, “Bowling. I think I want to try bowling.”

Renji scratched his sideburn thoughtfully and then nodded. “Okay. I can take you bowling. Is it...uh, expensive?”

Ichigo laughed. “Holy shit, Renji. I’ll fucking pay for it.”

“No, man, I’m dating you.”

“I think I’d better date you,” Ichigo said, letting himself fall back to the grassy bank with a smile. He jabbed a finger into those amazing arms of Renji’s, punctuating each word: “You are way too cheap.”

“Fine,” Renji grumbled, nuzzling up to bite at Ichigo’s earlobe. He tossed an arm around Ichigo’s waist. “But I buy the ramen every so often.”

Ichigo was going to make another joke, but just then a big gust of wind picked up the cowboy hat and it tumbled toward the water. They were both up and running after it, laughing when Renji had to run back and grab his shirt. Ichigo got to it first and, as Renji chased after him, Ichigo thought: yeah--he didn’t want to be like Uliquiorra and die without knowing shit about the heart.

Even if it killed him, it’d be worth it.


End file.
